"The Countess of Falkenberg, chief lady in waiting at the court of L——," was the reply of the doctor's wife when Elizabeth asked who the old lady was. Fräulein von Quittelsdorf looked exquisitely beautiful to-day in her white crape dress, with a wreath of scarlet euphorbia in her dark hair, as she busied herself about the noble lady, while she did not forget to cast a roguish glance now and then at Fräulein von Walde.
The arrival of the guests from the court was the signal for the beginning of the concert. Elizabeth could almost hear her own heart beat. She was standing behind the doctor's wife, and was hidden from all the eyes which would in one moment be directed towards her, following every one of her movements. Suddenly she was overcome with timidity, and she repented bitterly having consented to play first alone. She trembled when Fräulein von Walde motioned to her to begin, but there was no time to withdraw. She took a long breath, and walked slowly, with downcast eyes, to the piano, where she courtesied timidly.
At first there was a breathless silence; then a whisper ran from mouth to mouth, which was instantly hushed when the young girl struck the keys. Elizabeth's fear and embarrassment all vanished at the sound of the first chords. She was no longer alone. He with whom she had so often wandered along meadow paths in brilliant sunshine, and past gloomy abysses in storm and rain, was with her,—the one who had so often aroused within her joyous presentiments, and who had expressed in immortal harmonies all the loftiest and most sacred aspirations of her nature,—who was as dear and familiar to her as her mother's face, although her gaze fell dazzled by the fiery glories which wreathed his majestic head. The flower-crowned heads ranged against the walls, the lorgnettes and spectacles which, glittering in the sunlight, shot their lightning directly upon the lonely performer in the midst of the saloon, all vanished. She was alone with the great master, following with rapture every manifestation of his creative spirit.
An actual storm of applause startled her when she had finished. She courtesied, and then almost flew to her protectress, Frau Fels, who, speechless with emotion, held out both hands to her. The concert did not last very long. Four young gentlemen from L—— sang a delightful quartette, and then there was a performance by a famous violin player. Fräulein von Quittelsdorf sang two songs in a charming voice, but without any ear, so that at every high note the guests either moved involuntarily and nervously upon their chairs, or cast their eyes down in confusion. And then came one of the well-practised duets. Fräulein von Walde had recovered her composure, and played excellently well with Elizabeth.
When the concert was over, Elizabeth went towards the door of an anteroom, where she had left her shawl. She was closely followed by an elderly gentleman, who had been sitting opposite her, and had regarded her attentively. At his request, Frau Fels presented him to the young girl as the Military Inspector-general Busch. He said many flattering things about Elizabeth's performance, and added that he was much pleased to become acquainted with the heroic preserver of the life of the lord of the castle; he had accepted to-day's invitation with all the greater pleasure, since within the last few hours he had been deprived of all hope of claiming her assistance in the investigation of the murderous attempt.
He laughed heartily at Elizabeth's sudden alarm.
"No, no, I pray you not to look so horror-stricken, Fräulein," he said at last. "As I have just told you, we shall have no occasion to subject you to a cross-examination. Linke has himself put a stop to our proceedings by a single blow. His dead body was taken from the lake in the park this afternoon," he added, in a low tone. "They informed me of it at the inn, where I alighted. I proceeded, accompanied by the Waldheim physician, who happened to be at the inn, to the scene of the suicide, and convinced myself that that hand will never again be raised against the life of another. The condition of the body shows that Linke must have sought death immediately after the failure of his murderous purpose."
Elizabeth shuddered. "Does Herr von Walde know of his fearful end?" she asked in a trembling voice.
"No; I have had no opportunity to speak with him alone."
"None of the company present appear to have any suspicion of yesterday's occurrence," said Frau Fels.